A Walk Through Myriad Realities
by Leliel12
Summary: Many universes. Perhaps not an infinite number of them, but certainly close to it. With nigh-infinite numbers comes a nigh-infinite amount of variation, even with singular people. This is just a few of Taylor Hebert's variations.
1. Intro

This fic's a little special, in that it isn't a fic. Rather, I like to write a lot of Worm oneshots on Spacebattles, most crossovers, in my spare time

Much to my own surprise, a lot of people like them, so I decided to create this fic as a repository to them. Consider these an introduction to my writing style and general ideas. If you feel like stealing them, please be my guest. That's why I wrote them, in fact.

So, let's get this show on the road!

But first, a Disclaimer: I own nothing of any property so overviewed in this fic, and the idea was actually stolen from Biigoh. His version is Might have beens, on this very site.


	2. Agalea 1

**Aglea**

Yet Another Worm/Exalted crossover

* * *

"Okay. Run that by me..._again._" The woman with the topaz gem in her forehead began to rub it, fighting the pains that always seemed to come with her headaches.

"I am telling you, this isn't a risk!" The man with the amethyst gem advanced a step, hands out as if holding an invisible ball. "The Champion will be perfectly loyal to us-"

"Um, that would be _the problem._" The woman stood up to reveal her full height, impressively enhanced by her leg operation (and a subtle sign of her less-than-spotless past). "What makes you think that a soul whose _every incarnation_ was on the planet we are attempting to _harvest_ for the Great Maker will be amiable to our plight..._at all?" _The Autocrat of Arat stared in her fellow's eyes. "Way I see it, if we go with your plan, we end up creating a Voidbringer high priestess out of the vats if your idea works in any way, worst case scenario she shatters and we have an Apostate to add to our troubles."

"That's why he called me." A cloaked woman with a sapphire gem stepped out of the shadows at the back of the office. "I've done my research on the memory logs we have with this soul, and every incarnation-even the more vicious ones-has shown a marked degree towards empathy and a sense of moral clarity that allows her to behave in a utilitarian manner. Odds she will listen to reason."

"Which _still_ doesn't address _my_ problem, Ragra." A man, this one also having a topaz gem but wearing a combat uniform, stepped out from behind his fellow Olgotarch. "She may be one of the children of Autocthon in spirit, and the most virtuous among us, but where did she come from? As far as I understand from Mr. Leoik's report, you just happened to receive, and I quote, 'an odd transmission associated with a distress call', where you found the corpse of the current incarnation in an (admittedly distressing) locker, with an unimprinted Alchemical soulgem growing out of her pineal gland." He looked up. "Forgive my skepticism, but that sounds an awful lot like the neural mutations we've come to associate with those influenced by the Ouranan."

"That is only a theory, Sirin!"

"A theory which your own Sodality put forward, Leoik. My problem is, this reeks of a trap, and possibly the Void."

"If I may have another word..." Ragra pulled out her own dataslate. "That question occurred to me as well, so I had the Luminors and Surgeons to examine the soulgem, and we found that, well, there was indeed signs of the Kronos Lobe, so she is one of the shard bearers. This one, though-this one was entirely specialized to Wyld-shape a soulgem out of the ambient Chaotic energy and then migrate her soul into it. We think that was her entire mutation."

"Still seems like a trap," Sirin grumbled. But he withdrew.

Leoik didn't waste the opportunity. "And this is all secondary to the main point of this discussion; not repeating the First Locust Crusade."

_That_ got the Autocrat's attention. "Go on."

"Look. We all know what went wrong then, don't we?" Leoik was in his element, now. "We treated the Creation-born like savages, not bothering to learn their language or anything, just steamrolled everything in our path. We didn't research, we didn't moderate-we just swooped in and began to implant everyone without consent or understanding. Because of that, we were repulsed, and because of _that_, Creation is now so much Wyld despite our best efforts to stop the raksha. And now that we're being faced with the legitimate possibility of the Ouranans eating the universe we sacrificed almost everything to connect the Great Maker to. Even if we develop a way to get rid of our own nemesis, who's to say another mated pair won't show up to collect his shards and finish the job for Earth, leaving us adrift without any source of new souls? And frankly..."

He looked genuinely sad at this.

"They don't deserve to suffer any more than they already have."

The Autocrat knew this was probably a deliberate gambit on the Luminor's part to make it a moral issue. It still worked.

"...Fine. The Triumvirate is officially unanimous, on the condition we place her under armed guard until she fully acclimates. I'm not going to go down in history as the woman who provoked the failure of the Second Crusade."

"Thank you ma'am. And you won't."

_Though whether that's because history ceases at that point is what I'm worried about, _he internally added.

* * *

After about five minutes of floating in nothing but sensory deprivation, I decided that the afterlife could probably have been better.

But at least it was better than being stuck in that locker. At least I felt weightless here. Painless. Filth-less. I suppose it being heaven or hell depended on your feelings about sleep.

Would I go insane, here? Would I remain sane, but forget how to speak? Was that why ghosts were always a little on the eccentric side when you used an oujia board, they wanted to talk to you, but weren't sure how anymore, especially without eyes to visualize what those letters looked like?

Oh well, I suppose. There was nothing more to be-

_wake up._

Uh.

_champion, wake up, please._

Champion? Huh?

**_in the name of Autochthon, Father of Humanity, the Demiurges ask the Champion to wake up!_**

Well, how else was I supposed to respond to that? Particularly given how I suddenly realized that I still had ears?

I willed my eyes to open, and I felt them come into existence.

And the first thing I felt was fluid rush into them. I immediately shut them to avoid the pain...yet, it didn't come. In fact, the fluid seemed to travel from them into the rest of my body, reintroducing its existence to me.

I was apparently floating in the fluid. Medical Tinker with a focus in chemistry, perhaps?

I forced my eyes open.

The fluid, which was somewhat of a blue-grey color, was otherwise remarkably clear. I could instantly tell the tank I was in was standing, free-floating, in the middle of a laboratory, not chrome but polished to the point of shining like it. Around it was an eclectic mix of blinking consoles and what looked like clockwork. Medical Tinker with retro tastes, I guessed.

"Miss? Can you hear me, miss?"

The voice echoed through the fluid. I got the sense the sound was being transmitted through the fluid from the glass of the tank. My own personal stereo. I idly wondered if the owner liked to listen to music like this, literally a part of the speaker. Sounded...uncomfortable. But that was me.

I rose a thumbs up to the unseen source. There was a rather long pause, before the sound of a relieved sigh came through the tank.

"You can speak in the tank, you know. You can't suffocate in the Liquid Steam. Can I ask your name?"

Huh. Odd name, but given the color, I suppose it fitted. I opened my mouth, expecting to choke anyway, but no. Apparently the fluid was already in my lungs.

"...Hebert. Taylor Hebert."

"You owe me a glot." A different voice, female this time.

"Okay, um...what's your, uh, 'proper name', the one you inherited from your parents?"

_Huh?_ Who didn't know that? The voice didn't sound accented to an American ear at all, so why didn't he know what a surname was?

"Hebert."

"Okay, Miss Hebert, could you spin around for me? Just think like you're turning on the ground.

Still a little perplexed, I did so. My body didn't quite move, but I did see the lab spin around as the Liquid Steam swirled.

Before me was the strangest group of individuals that I had ever seen up close. Well, it wasn't that they looked inhuman at all, it was just that they were dressed like, well, random technicians in a James Bond movie, most of them. The fact that they all had purple gems placed in the center of their forehead rather completed the bizarre ensemble.

The tanned man in front, who I took to be the leader, hit the switch on the clockwork device I could only assume to be the Tinker's microphone. "Okay, good. Miss Hebert, can you tell me the name and profession of your father?"

"Daniel, but everyone calls him Danny. He's a manager of employment at the Docks. Did something happen?" My voice hiked up a little at that.

The man looked pained, then turned to a paler woman with a blue gem on her forehead and wearing robes with gears and cogs embroidered on them. He had turned off the mic, so I could only read their lips.

_How am I supposed to tell her? _he mouthed.

The woman looked downcast. _I don't think there's any way we can. Just...let her find out._

The fact I could now read lips, or that their lips did not move like someone speaking English should did not occur to me then. All I could think of was what they didn't want to tell me. "C-could someone explain what the hell's going on!? What happened to my dad!?"

The man turned around, and reluctantly turned on the mic. "It's not your father, Miss...Taylor. Please, brace yourself. Now, look down."

I did.

I was also apparently naked. I would have shrieked and tried to cover myself in reflex...except that wasn't my body I saw.

Or rather, it was, but it was now a gleaming, silvery-grey metal. As I stared in disbelief, a hue of multicolored light refracted off of it.

_Then_ I shrieked.

* * *

About an hour of panic and thrashing about later (and that was _after_ the Liquid Steam was filled with some kind of sedative), I was now clothed and staring at a wall. I was shivering, but I wasn't actually cold (could I even _get_ cold anymore?).

What had happened in that locker? What was so much of a medical catastrophe that I had to be transferred into some weird robot body? A dark thought struck me and I wondered if this wasn't always my body, and I had simply dreamed of being Taylor as part of some Tinker's mad scheme to create robotic life. For the sake of what sanity I had left, I pushed it out of my head.

"Miss Taylor?"

The female voice from before. I still didn't feel like talking, so I simply nodded.

The robed woman from before let herself in, clutching a strange device that looked like what would happen if you made a tablet PC steam-powered. Upon seeing me, she flashed a broad smile. A therapist, I guessed.

"Hi. I'm Ragra."

Silence. Her smile fell.

"Um, if you need me, I'll be right outside the-"

"No. You stay here."

Even as I said it, I realized just how much my voice sounded like my old one. If I hadn't accidentally cut myself on the broken vat, and seen the complex devices that now passed for my arm muscles, I would have guessed my old body was still contained inside the metal. Too much to hope for.

Ragra either did not hear the angry edge in my voice or did not care. Her smile returned as she sat on a bench next to me.

"Taylor, I'm sorry. I know this is a lot to take in-"

I shot up. "A lot to take in!? You turned me into a _goddamned cyborg!"_

She seemed uncomprehending for a second, then a look of realization, followed by sympathy. "We didn't have a choice. Your old body was biologically dead."

The building fury in me suddenly evaporated. I realized she was probably right-otherwise I wouldn't be the Amazing Golden Girl. It wasn't _her_ fault.

"I...I get it." I looked down. "It's just...it's just that when I woke up, I expected to be in some hospital bed, connected to an IV drip, not some charity case by a robot-themed Tinker."

She looked confused.

"Um, yeah, that's a PRT classification for capes with craftsmanship."

Comprehension. "I can imagine. I mean, my people admire Alchemicals, and I'd be pretty traumatized if I woke up one day as one."

_Her people? Alchemicals?_ I put that out of my mind for now. For now, I had another question that was bugging me. "What's with the jewel?"

"My soulgem? Ah, it's a, oh how do you put it in language you understand...a computer that logs my memories and personality for the computer core of the place we're in right now, so that they can be transferred to my successor. Mine shows I'm a Theomach, a priest of our god. You have one too."

My hands instinctively went up to my forehead. Sure enough, I felt the cold surface of a jewel, this one shaped like a swallowtail. Huh. I suppose whoever rebuilt me was feeling a bit poetic that day-a butterfly for the transformed girl.

But there was another, more pressing thing. "God? Don't tell me I've been remade by someone who fancies himself a living deity. That's _never_ a good sign."

"Well, you never know with Sodalities, but..." Ragra trailed off. And sighed.

"You're actually standing in him."

...

What.

The.

Fuck.

Before she could do anything, I rushed for the door, and out the lab.

I don't think anyone could have prepared for what I saw.

* * *

Distantly, I became aware of Ragra jogging up to me. Most of me was too focused on the sight before me.

I could see I was standing at the top of a tall building, the color of obsidian. The building stood at the center of a great city that was likewise obsidian-colored metal, covered in colorful graffiti and neon. Buzzing about were thousands of clockwork-and-robotic drones, each with a single red lens, one of which flew up to me and focused, apparently curious about the gawking cyborg, before flying off. Even from here, I could see hundreds of people milling about, all in the same uniform I had seen the operators of my vat wearing. On what little of the streets I could see, there were at least a dozen tents. On my building, there was a mass hieroglyphic language on its own neon signs, which I quickly realized I could read: _An Honest Citizen Is a Happy Citizen_, for one. _A Glot Earned Is A Glot Valued_, for another. A bunch of motivational posters I doubted the people in the streets paid much attention to, in other words.

That wasn't what drew my eye. It was what was _beyond_ the city.

An entire landscape of clockwork, metal, and steam engines stretched before me. I was aware of the sound of distant pistons as steam escaped from a large vent in the roof that served as a sky.

With slowness born from reluctance, I realized how far I was from home.

I collapsed, sobbing.

* * *

"So...you're not from Earth."

"No. But we've checked the genomes-we're genetically identical to Earth humans, so we're not aliens. We are interdimensional travelers, though."

After I had calmed down a bit, my questioning of Ragra had resumed in earnest. The cup of...tea-like beverage she had given me helped a lot.

Apparently, I was inside some kind of Dyson Sphere, an intelligent (but currently sleeping) being named Autocthon. He had fled from the world he had helped create (which wasn't all that farfetched, to me-a civilization capable of building something like Autocthon was probably capable of giving him terraforming modules, too) out of fear of something called "the Breakers" and the living weapons he had helped design to stop them. He took several thousand humans from that world, and many, many more souls awaiting reincarnation (I rolled with it) to keep him company, and in recognition of his own flaws. An entire civilization of repairmen, essentially (they didn't seem to mind, though I quietly wondered if their ancestors did).

Unfortunately, while he had intended to sleep to conserve energy, a bit of that damage became a kind of cancerous computer virus, known to the Autocthonians as the Void, began to spread throughout the Great Maker's body. Fighting off the Void, combined with a bunch of idiots who apparently didn't realize war on a leaky spaceship was the mother of all bad ideas, put an extreme drain on what resources Autocthon had.

Which led to the thing I was the most skeptical about.

"You're going to do _what_ with Earth!?"

I jumped up, legitimately angry. "I'm sorry, I don't think I heard that properly. You're going to _mine the Earth for resources, make people wear soul gems to supplant your population, and then ESTABLISH A COLONY!?"_

Ragra grinned sheepishly. "...Yes?"

"I'm sorry, no." I was legitimately pissed now. "I thank you for rebuilding me, and saving me from that locker, but no. I am _not_ helping a fucking _alien invader."_

"Er, we actually chose you so you could help us make peaceful contact-"

"Then why. Haven't. You done so?"

"We...can't speak the language."

Okay, that was new. "Then what are we speaking? Sounds like English to me."

"Sounds like Autocthonian to me. We actually programmed our tongue into you so your brain would associate our own words with your native tongue. You're actually speaking our native language like a native."

...Oh. "W-well, you could try to learn Earthling. Your writing looks like Asian languages, you could learn enough Japanese or Mandarin to say 'We come in peace, please give us some of your stuff before our spaceship-god explodes.'"

"Unfortunately, no. We don't even have the concept of separate lettering here-each pictograph is a separate word. Really, we needed you to _begin_ to translate."

The implication of that statement took a moment to settle in.

Then the bottom of my stomach dropped out. "You...want me to...be your...ambassador?"

Ragra looked sympathetic.

Oh God.

Oh God.

Oh God.

I couldn't do this! I couldn't just switch from schoolgirl to Diplomacy-Tron 3000. I barely knew about social dynamics in my _school_ apart from "avoid the bullies."

I began to sniffle again. "...I want to see my dad," I admitted.

"Actually, I was getting around to that..."

She pulled out what I now knew was called a dataslate, and input something. "My apologies, but we had to make sure your memories were all intact, and knew you had to switch languages when you spoke to him."

Before I could react, the door to a foyer opened.

And sitting there (between two relieved-looking guards) was the one person I needed the most right now.

"...Taylor?"

"Dad," I whispered in what I hoped was English.

A millisecond later, we were in a tight embrace.

"Taylor? ...your hands are cold."

Oh yeah. Robot. "Sorry dad."

"Don't worry. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay.

* * *

A/N: Not overviewed:

Ragra: Oh and by the way the person you think is a hero is a godlike alien we're scared shitless of and want drowned in the Lethe as soon as possible, we remade you as part of our plan to get rid of him without tipping him off to Autocthon being in orbit.

But that's another story.


	3. Worm Goddess Resurrection 1

**Worm Goddess Resurrection**

**Shin Megami Tensei / Worm**

* * *

Piggot, for once in her life, could not find fault with the Wards. She was honestly the most amazed out of any of them.

"So...run that by me again. The new members of the Undersiders-"

"Iktomi and Manitou," Aegis wheezed out from the various ice burns covering his body.

"Thank you, Iktomi and Manitou...are both Master 10s."

"Well, actually from the way he was acting, I think her Tinkertech is Master 10, but she built a spare for him." Clockblocker looked like he was trying to disappear into his suit, if he didn't die of embarrassment first.

"Okay. And her minions-"

"Demons. She called them demons." Vista, on the other hand looked like she had been sealed in a tomb for weeks with no sun.

"Demons were all Blasters and Masters themselves?"

"Won dwas ah Brute," Gallant tried to say through a broken nose. "Definatly ah Brute."

"And the reason Panacea didn't help you is..."

"She's still unconscious," Browbeat said, trying to retain his dignity despite apparently having been in a losing fight with a wind tunnel. "See..."

* * *

**Three Hours Earlier**

* * *

"Hee-ho!"

The Wards, not to put a light spin on it, had faced a lot of things in the past. Muggers, murderers, the occasional supervillain, and an impossible-to-please boss.

They had _not_ faced a chubby little snowman with a pointy cap that was quite possibly the cutest thing they ever had seen. The snowman, not the cap, although that helped the effect.

"Mistress Ta-um, Manitou told me you shouldn't come any closer, or we'll do something she'll regret! Hee-ho!"

After picking her jaw off the ground (and suppressing the urge to hug him, and feed him, and call him George), Vista cleared her throat. "Um...Mr...?"

"Jack Frost!"

"Mr. Frost, I'm Vista. I know you think you're helping a friend, but um-"

"Oh don't worry! I know all about who Mistress is! It's why I joined her, hee-ho! A life of adventure and a little server to call my own!" The snowman did a quick spin, then his smiling expression became an angry frown. "I know all about you too, hee-ho! You're the mean superheroes that want to take Mistress away from her dad!"

Okay, that was new. Aegis piped up next. "Look, Mr. Frost, if...Mistress Manitou wants to come quietly, I think the Wards will overlook a stupid mistake she made-"

"Not likely! Mistress Manitou told me all about her dad, too! How he was so worried about her, and so she made him a magic spear like her, um, magicaler gauntlet so he wouldn't have to worry, hee-ho! That way he could go an adventures with her and her friends, hee-ho!"

"Magic spear?" said Gallant, looking thoughtful. "So her dad's that guy with the lance?"

A look of utter alarm came to Jack Frost's face. "Er, I didn't say nothing! Anything! You hee-hoeard nothing from me!"

Clockblocker, as usual, was the first to riff on this. "So, I guess she's Darth Leia? Come to the dark side, and we shall rule the galaxy as daughter and father."

"...I don't understand that reference, hee-ho."

"Really?" If Clockblocker's mask was up, they would have seen the sympathy on his face. "Tell you what, when we beat you, I'll make sure the Star Wars trilogy is being played in the prison theater, okay?"

"Actually, I've been meaning to show the demons Earth movies myself."

A hologram of a dark-haired girl wearing a coyote mask suddenly flickered into being over her cute, loose-lipped minion.

"So," said Aegis, looking at the projection. "You're the mysterious Manitou."

"Guilty as charged. I set Frost out here on patrol to warn me when you showed up." She looked down at her minion, her mask's eyes robotically narrowing. "I did _not_ tell him to engage in small talk, though. _Especially _not to blab who Iktomi is."

"Hee-hohohooo! I'm sooorrryyyy!"

"Eh, they were going to find out anyway." She looked back at the Wards. "Before you ask, I'm the one with powers, dad just has a modified COMP I developed for him that allows him to control demons too. I'm working on ones for the rest of my team, too, so I'd advise you to leave us alone for the time being."

It took a couple seconds to register what Manitou implied. After a couple seconds of _oh god Master factory we all gonna die_, the Wards assumed fighting stances. "Sorry, but if that's the case, we can't let you get away in a million years," said Browbeat, flexing his powers to show exactly what Manitou was up against. "Unless you come quietly, your demons are going to be really unhappy in a really short time."

"I was afraid of that," she sighed. "Dad?"

Another hologram appeared, this one having an older man with a spider mask covering most identifiable features. "Yes?"

Manitou rose a high tech gauntlet into the viewscreen's area. "Let's show these guys what a pair of Devil Summoners can do."

"...We need to work on your pre-battle quips, young lady."

"Dad, this is the first time I'm fighting superheroes! Give me a break!"

Iktomi rolled his eyes and rose his lance into the screen.

Suddenly, arcane-looking sigils with "Devil Summoning Program" overlaid on them appeared on both holograms, at which point green lighting streaked from the sky.

And just as suddenly, the Wards were very outnumbered.

"YoU ArErN't GoInG aNyWhErE, sErVaNtS oF lAw!"

"ME WOULD GRIND YOUR BONE TO BITS, YOU NEED GLAD SUMMONER NO LIKE KILLING HUMANS!"

"Really? In my day, warriors of justice were intimidating..."

"Oh, but this old biddy remembers those knights. Ah, I feel young again..."

"We're going to be supervillains! How cool is that!?"

"Young sirs and madams, it would not be a breach in protocol to retreat now and save us all a spot of trouble."

"Like, go easy on them, kay? I'd really hate to ruin that eye candy with scars..."

"Fhy8g 7dgg8gw!"

As the eclectic mix of colorful monsters took their positions on the battlefield, one thing ran through the minds of all the Wards.

_We are so screwed._

"Hee-hoo! **CHAAAARGE!"**

* * *

**One Hour Later from Three Hours Ago**

* * *

"Dee do-do-dooo! Dee do-do-doo!"

Five things occurred to Clockblocker in quick succession.

First, the past fifteen minutes had passed in a haze, and all he remembered was blissed-out happiness.

Second, a red-skinned girl with butterfly wings was singing a wedding march.

Third, all his friends were in various states of injury, groaning on the ground, next to a peacefully sleeping Panacea.

Fourth, Shadow Stalker's mask was off, and she looked happier than she had ever been in her life.

Five, he was making motions to kiss her.

...Wait.

Shadow Stalker seemed to realize this too, as her expression turned into one of utter shock that probably mirrored his own.

A stream of incoherent syllables came out of their mouths.

"And this, kids, is why, like, your favorite ships are unrealistic and can only be done through, like, bullshit magic, literally. Also, Regent? You kinda owe me five Magnetite."

The demon girl took off, leaving both Wards to comment on their tragically short-lived relationship.

_**"******__A_AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

* * *

**The Actual Present**

* * *

"Never. Again." Clockblocker shivered.

Vista grinned despite herself. "Not so fun to be on the other end of the bad joke, huh?"

"Seriously, though, Manitou's scary as all fuck." Glory Girl, who was still trying to look dignified despite the supernatural fear she had been hit with, causing her to be paralyzed while the demons trounced the Wards. "She has the literal armies of fucking hell on her side, and they're complete trolls too. And if we let her go free, she'll build more Tinkertech for her allies to summon more troll demons, and then the forces of good become the punchline of the world."

"And we don't know where she is." Piggot rubbed her forehead. "Please, tell me this day can't get any-"

Suddenly, Armsmaster burst in, panting heavily. "Director! There's a giant, green centaur-pig attacking a supermarket, eating everything on the shelves while going 'Buno Buno!'"

A long silence followed. Then, Clockblocker cleared his throat.

"At least we still have rhubarb pie?"


	4. Dead Men 1

**Dead Men Tattle No Tales**

*ring*

*ring*

_This is the home of Daniel Hebert, I'm sorry I can't take your call, please leave a message._

*beep*

A sallow, dark-haired teenager licked her lips. How do you do something like this?

"Uh...hi dad," she said in that hyper-pleasant tone one generally associated with someone in the middle of a complete mental breakdown. "It's me...You don't need to worry about me."

Depending on how you looked at it, she was either trying to not cry or cry actual tears. "Something happened to me dad. Something horrible."

She looked down at the gun she stole. "Something that turned me into something horrible. Oh god..."

She gave up, red liquid streaming down her cheeks. "I...I don't know what I am-"

All right, show's over. I felt my own blood fizzle away as I activated my Devotion to affect the clone I made of her cell phone, causing the actual speaking voice to switch over to mine. She looked up in surprise as her own broke out in static.

"It's okay, sweetie-I'll take over from here."

Now she was actively panicked. A pair of fangs that...were actually kinda cute on a face like that (I suspected that if she was triggered by rage they'd be less cute) descended as she swiveled around for the source of the voice.

Undeterred, I kept speaking. "Mr. Hebert, I'm Sarah Wibourn's mother, Lisa. As you know, Taylor has been the recipient of a rather psychotic bullying campaign, and she is currently staying at my daughter's house to recuperate. However, the reason she has been avoiding her school for the past three days is because she's been heavily traumatized and was nearly catatonic. She's been here for over a week, trying to work up the nerve to call you. She states, and I quote, 'I can't go back there, it reminds me of Emma.' As it is, she's going to be a lodger over here for a while-you can visit any time you like, but I'm a psychologist and I think it's probably better that we listen to her on this. Call me if you have any questions."

End call. And step out of the way of a revenant in Rotschrek. Not that she could _see _me, but I guessed it was probably better to let the scared proto-Kindred calm down enough to understand reasoning before actually trying to reason.

"WHO!? WHERE!?"

If only I could shut up. "I'm your new best friend who just saved you from doing something very stupid."

"SHOW!"

"Not until you stop running around like a calf with a hot dishwasher on your back."

"I...I.." Slowly, the fangs retracted as Taylor Hebert's reason returned to her eyes. That actually _worked? _Wow. Probably a fluke, but wow.

"Excellent. Just hold on..."

And Obsfucate dropped. I gave my award winning smile.

"Nice to meet ya."

Annnd now she was crouching like a dog ready to attack.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Easy...easy...I'm like you, okay?" Fangs out.

Now shock. Then relief.

Then the sensation of being held on to for dear life. I didn't normally breathe, so no choking, but it still was massively uncomfortable.

"Tight," I wheezed out.

She loosened up a bit, but I was still being hugged. Felt nostalgic, somehow.

Then she suddenly remembered her phone. She jerked back; she didn't look ready to fight now, but she was definitely defensive. "Who are you, and how do you know me?"

"Well, that's the thing; if I used my real name, someone might remember a certain rich white girl vanishing around the fifties, and people would start wondering why I'm still a teenager instead of somebody's grandma." I shrugged. "But I use the alias Tattletale a lot, because I know all your dirty little secrets, and I'm not afraid to use them. Of course, that's a description of_all _Mekhet, but I didn't know that until the name got stuck."

"Mekhet? Is that the proper-you haven't answered my other question."

"There's a third in that, but if you're going to join the Cacophony-that's our little hidden culture, by the by-you probably need to know anyway. We're called Kindred, or vampires if you want to be not-asshatted about it, but there's several different Clans, or families of the wider undead. I'm a Mekhet, a," I made my voice as eerie as possible while waving my fingers around, "_mistress of the shaadooows._"

She grinned despite herself. Good, disarm the situation as much as possible.

"Second, you've...kinda broken the rules. You're not supposed to leave evidence of feeding like that."

Almost immediately, she looked ashamed of herself. Not angry about breaking something she didn't knew existed? Reanimation really broke her.

Then again...yeah.

"Hey, hey, nobody sane blames you." I neglected to mention that a lot of elders weren't sane at all. "You were infected with cursed blood thanks to a quirk of fate and then left to rot for two days, and you were faced with the person who threw you in there when you were starving. Frankly my coterie-that's my vampire friends-had to debate finishing the job ourselves."

She didn't look any better. Okay, gambling time.

"Which is why I was promised a favor if I help you with your blood loss problem."

Full house. She looked up, surprised, disbelieving...and hopeful.

"See, vampires aren't normally created when we feed. There wouldn't be anybody left to feed on if that were the case. See, you have to die first with vampirism-infused blood...except that's not the whole story." I looked at Taylor's latest meal, an unfortunate cat. Phew, I did not need to talk down Rachel tonight. "Normally, we have to deliberately feed a prospect with a bit of our personal blood, deliberately, if we want to make a new clanmmate. If not, there's more than a slight chance they become someone like you." I turned back to Taylor. "A revenant, a clanless vampire."

Her mind, the thing that already interested my more amoral side, was already putting it together. "And revenants can't retain blood from night-to-night."

"Ding-ding-ding!" I gave her a thumbs up. "And it's pretty horrible when you lose the red stuff."

She shivered. "Please don't remind me."

"And since you're always hungry, the Beast-that's the name for vampire predatory instincts, you know hunt, eat, sleep, repeat, crush everyone who tries to break the sequence-is always a little pissed off and grouchy." I smiled. "Of course..." I slid a bit closer. "The Beast also knows that it's incomplete. You have one little advantage over full Kindred, and that's the ability to adopt a clan, and with lose your blood anorexia."

She caught on really quickly, I gave her that. "...is that invisibility unique?"

"Not even to Mekhet in general. We're stealthy mind readers, and Brian-you'll meet him pretty soon-is a member of the other stealthy clan, though Nosferatu are lords of nightmares."

She mulled it over in her head. "...mind readers?"

"And object readers, and diviners, and occultists." I smiled. Take the bait, take the bait, take the-

"Is there any special ritual I need to become one, or...?"

Got it. Hello, new childe. I held out my arm. "Nope. Just take a sip, I'll do the res-ow."

Desperate much? Oh well.

I closed my eyes and let the Beast tear off a bit of my soul. I felt it travel down my arm and into Taylor's mouth, and from there, to her own formless iteration of the instinct. I could almost see it eagerly enfold around that piece of absolute darkness, and from there melt into the form of a stealthy jackal, wise, cunning, and a colossal troll.

When I opened them, something had _changed _in Taylor. Where before there was a sort of haunted hunger about her, a starved woman so desperate to survive she'd hunt down humans just to live a little longer, she now had the quiet confidence of a spy or assassin, the calm stance of a girl who knew who everyone was and was completely prepared for anything from them. Assuming you saw her to begin with.

She looked up. "Tastes...sweet."

"Probably a lot nicer than feline, right?" I held out an arm. "Time to meet the family."

**A Worm/Vampire: the Requiem Crossover.**

* * *

**A/N: By the way, Revenants? The way they can't retain blood over the night? They sweat it.**

**Which meant every night Taylor was waking up covered in blood.**


	5. Architect 1

**Architect**

**A Worm/13th Age Crossover**

* * *

I didn't know where I was.

One second, it was a locker filled with filth, the next, some kind of brick chamber, lit by some kind of neon light.

It was a large chamber, and above all else a clean one, so I wasn't alarmed. In fact, I felt...safe, here. Protected. At home.

After ruining said cleanliness with my puke, I let my eyes adjust a bit. Huh, looked kind of...medieval? Almost like a throne room without tapestries. No lighting apart from the "neon" though, which on second impression seemed to be more like luminescent paint. Lots of shadows.

About the only noteworthy thing was the throne, which appeared to be made of onyx and coated with scarlet bedding. Looked intimidating. And comfortable, if you slouched. Apart from those, the only decorations were spikes and a blue gem that looked kind of like a polyhedron.

Eerie. Or at least, that's what it seemed to want to look like. For some reason, it just looked like a good place to finally have the breakdown.

So that's where it happened. I began to sink into the chair, quietly sobbing.

Why? Why did it come to this?

Why, for once in my life, can't I have a friend again? A real, true friend, one I can finally rely on?

Does [Crafter/Administrator/Designer] require [columns/support]?

There's a teenage girl bawling her eyes out and screaming at the injustice of the world WHAT DO YOU TH-

Who said that?

[Installation/Soul/Self] was responding to [work order/request], [Crafter/Administrator/Designer].

I tensed. That was not a voice I _heard; _More like my own thoughts saying something alien.

[Installation/Soul/Self] does not have necessary [amenities/mouth/organs] to communicate verbally.

Okay, so I was either going insane or the captive of some kind of telepath. Huroo. Holy shit. Fuck my life. Just fuck it.

Slowly, I started to break into hysterics.

The seat's spike suddenly animated and caught me in a tight hug. I was too shocked to react at first, but then the cushioning got in on the act.

[Repair/Assurance] that everything is [on schedule/working out okay], [Crafter/Administrator/Designer].

...Fuck it. If this was a delusion, it was certainly nicer than the real world. If this was an actual cape with an odd way of "speaking", even better. I didn't care who it was, it could be, I don't know, Genoscythe the Eyeraper and it would seem like an improvement.

Is term new [project designation/moniker]?

NO! That was a joke!

Understood. Previous statement [regarded as blueprint error/ignored].

...Just who _are _you anyway?

A pause of absolutely nothing transpired.

...Here.

Huh. Odd name for a parahuman, but-

[Construction/Flesh/Body] is not parahuman. [Construction/Flesh/Body] is here.

...I don't understand.

The lights suddenly flared. The bricks shifted as the spike-arm gestured over them. I noticed the polyhedron gem was glowing.

Here.

...What?

[Installation/Soul/Self] is subterranean entity. [Installation/Soul/Self] has [documentation/memories] of being referred to as "living dungeon." [Documentation/Memories] also refers to other [project designation/moniker] as Rubicon of Worlds.

...

What.

...[Instillation/Soul/Self]-

I got _that, _but...living dungeon?

[Installation/Soul/Self] is [material: terrestrial matter/earth] [composite/elemental] [design plan/subrace] known to [building zone/native dimension] [pests/hostiles/inhabitants] as "living dungeon." [Installation/Soul/Self] is self-aware architectural entity capable of replication of other lifeforms as [construction crew/maintenance/antibodies/mouths/service force]. [Installation/Soul/Self] was not aware [Crafter/Administrator/Designer]'s species was capable of independent communication until shortly ago. [Installation/Soul/Self] is pleased by this turn of events. [Documentation/Memories] suggest [schedule/forecast] of...loneliness given inability to communicate with other living dungeons.

O...kay...

But could you get me back home? I know it's difficult, but your new friend really wants to go back, hug her dad, and cry herself to sleep. I'll talk with you later.

[Work goal/Request] recieved. Please hold...

There was a rumbling sound resounding around the throne room.

Shortly thereafter, a wall suddenly swung open like a door, with a bit of earth spilling in before sunlight poured through.

As my eyes adjusted, I could see, in rapid succession, my house, my dad, and my dad dropping a cup of coffee.

* * *

**Several Months Later**

* * *

Trap, disarm, smash. Lather, flood, repeat.

If Leviathan could be said to have any human emotions, the one it would be feeling now would be annoyance. Yes, the traps _hurt, _but it was an Endbringer! Hurt was its existence, especially at the bottom of the ocean and crushing depths.

Releasing off a bit of steam-its equivalent of growling-the Doom of Kyushu shook off the effects of the inferno and washed away the strange apparatus before resuming its flooding of the target-

Huh, that mountain wasn't there before. Irregularity, it looked almost constructed. Leviathan decided to make investigating it a priority-

The mountain burst open. The inside was perfectly hollow, except for a large entity whose hydoform looked to be a nearly exact mirror image of-

Hold

A nearly exact mirror image of Leviathan itself, except with the eyes placed to resemble a normal human face, albeit sans mouth, an extra pair of limbs, and the bioform on top of it that the minute differences in its hydroform suggested that it was "grinning madly."

Leviathan sent new information to Simurgh for suggestions.

_Advisement: Abort mission._

Leviathan didn't need to have human emotions to feel fear at that moment.

The small hydroform made a noise. To human ears, it sounded like "Sic em' Bahamut."

* * *

As part of my driving ethos to make Taylor D&D villains, I make her: THE DUNGEON MASTER!

(Seriously, dungeons in 13th Age are, more often than not, a malicious species of earth elemental that burrows up from the Underworld).


	6. Skittering Among the Stars 1

**A/N: Here's something new: Something that isn't a crossover.**

* * *

**Let Me Skitter Among the Stars**

* * *

"Cadet?"

I snapped out of my meditation. "Hm?"

"Cadet, Captain wants you on bridge."

I resisted the urge to drop my jaw. "We're there _already?"_

"The Quartermaster told you that her and Captain's Gildings are ideal for warp, correct?" The pishon was obviously attempting to not roll his eyes. "I expected that-"

"No, no, she did, it's just that...that fast?"

"Correct. Wonderful for smuggling." The infamously humorless administrach inferior of the Honored Adventure caravan took flight, resembling nothing so much as a stingray with a bird's beak while winging back to his own ship's bridge.

I blinked a little before emerging from my communion with the Broodmind. This was going to be exciting or terrifying. Probably both.

* * *

"Right then, a brief briefing for all of you too drunk to remember the last one." Quartermaster Wilbourn marched up to the projector and kicked it, revealing a static-riddled hologram of our theater of operations. "Our objective is a basic shoot-and-run against the Protectorate treasure ship _Galatea_ to get at the high-value colonist fare and black data they have on board, which for the benefit of our newbie is that crappy-but-expensive food they ship out to we Outzoners, and various juicy tidbits we can use to blackmail the not-so-upstanding rich citizens of the universe."

I nodded. "But that's for us. The pishoni hired us for something else."

"Exactly. We get to take whatever's not nailed down except for the administrator lens plus a bunch of coupons, they get a distraction to get the lens in the first place." She motioned to the perching aliens, who unraveled their tentacles out of their hand shape and crossed them in front of their torsos. Their sign of promising to keep their end of the bargain. Once in a year event right there - pishoni viewed looking for better deals as a generally laudable quality, and made no secret of that.

The quatermaster gave that odd, vulpine grin of hers at that I still wasn't used to. "To that end, we've decided on that golden oldie, the hollow javelin maneuver. The _Pluto _rams the biggest escort they have, then we release fighters, whatever warp beast Rachel is keeping below decks, and-"

"Question," said a translated-as-feminine voice.

Oh dear sweet merciful El Elyon, _not this shit again._

The pishon clicked her tail against a foot pincer before speaking. "I was wondering about that. Captain, permission to inquire?"

Captain Laborn cradled his head in his hands. "Permission to ask stupid question granted."

The pishon clicked again, much louder this time. "Pardon my asking, but we do seem to have a Swarm emissary being relied on to-"

"First," I said, rising to my feet. "They have a proper name, and it is sinaan. Second-"

"See? She even refers to them as if they were a sapient-"

"_Enough, _Eudokia," cried the voice of the aministrach superior. "I won't brook your prejudice against a client race, however removed from their direct intelligence."

"Yes ma'am," the ray mumbled as she shrank back.

"_Second_, if I was a sinaan emissary, I'd be one myself, instead of a parahuman. I just have the gift - sorry, Gilding - to communicate coherently with a Brood of them without a medium and serve as a ganglia creature in a pinch. Third, I seem to remember that they only implant crewed ships who attacked them-"

"Whoa. Hold it dorks, you can compare genitals later, ix-nay on the lame-fay war until we have our booty."

I grumbled and returned to my seat. The third officer was right, this wasn't the time or place. Back to the briefing.

"As I was saying, Taylor's sinaan will join the raid. We've also seen a Ward training barge in the area, so we fully expect some parahumans to show up in response to the distress call, but they're going to be wet behind the ears and probably setting themselves up for a good ass-kicking."

I flipped my visor back on, ostensibly to check the HUD but really to hide the guilty expression on my face. Why did I feel bad about selling out a bunch of ambling pirates again? It was probably safer for them in custody, not jumping from dubious client to dubious client with nothing but a bunch of bio-robots for crew. Hell, they weren't even adults! How did we...they get a ship again?

Thankfully, the quartermaster didn't seem to notice. Or she was really good at hiding her expressions. "Anyway, once that happens, the caravan will use the chaos to draw attention away from their cloaking signature..."

* * *

"This is Skitter-5, ready for launch."

I felt my mind and passenger merge with the Zion device and amplify my power. The Broodmind, normally a chittering mass of similar emotions, became coherent, "speaking" in the almost-one voice that I nearly could parse as language.

_Prepared. Selves attention. Launch=xenoform's._

"Tattletale-2, ready for launch."

A glowing set of "eyes" was all I saw in the lightless depths of shallow warp.

"Regent-3, just got out of bed and wondering why I'm not in my bed."

A simultaneous sigh came over the speakers.

"Bitch-4."

Something that looked almost like a dog with fur made of tentacles swam past to Rachel's Nebula fighter, despite the utter dark. There was a sort of anti-light that allowed it to be seen despite there being no other light at all.

"Grue-1 is on standby."

I felt the _Pluto _lurch as its nosecone shifted into a missile.

"Three...two...one..."

The dark lifted, revealing the docking bay and the whirl of stars.

Then another lurch as the entire corsair shook. The soundless nature of it combined with the shaking nearly caused me to lose my lunch right then and there as my internal balance completely vanished.

"LAUNCH!"

_Go, _I whispered to the sinaan.

The stars came closer as my Nebula shot out into space.

Crunch time.

* * *

**Also known as: Worm, IN SPAAAAACE!**

**Featuring Space Pirate/Mercenary!Undersiders**


	7. Architect 2

**Architect Part 2:**

******Like Shooting Cave Fish In A Barrel**

* * *

Purity wrinkled her nose. "Not the most hygienic sort, is she?"

"No," said Kaiser, holding his.

The Rubicon of Worlds was not the most modern facility at the best of times-in fact, it was more of a dark ages castle that suddenly popped up wherever Sawyer was and started belching out monsters-this room could use from same basic janitorial work. Despite it being closer to her throne room, where she directed the movement and expansion of the Rubicon.

And seriously, what were those odd, tribal totems? They were strewn about everywhere, like toys of a toddler.

"Well, well, well...seems you aren't completely helpless after all."

All E88 members present spun to face the projection of the Rubicon's mistress, idly examining her drafting compass. "Really, given the caliber of your subculture's intellectual achievements, I was expecting you to die on the first trap. After all, it involved subtraction."

Hookwolf growled, but neither he nor his team expected the projection to respond. This was a recording, after all.

That, and several mundane members had screwed up their math and were now chilling in a prison inside of the rogue's throne room. Nobody liked that being rubbed in.

"As a reward, I'm going to humor your inferiority complex for a bit, and actually show you a species that was created to tear down civilization." She put away the compass and leaned against an out-of-projection wall, playing with a 20-sided dice. "You may have noticed that the otherwise spotless condition of the Rubicon has been...neglected, here."

"That occurred to us, yes." Stormtiger looked like he was trying to not vomit.

"Well, there's actually a reason for that. I was dirtying the land in preparation."

Alarm bells sounded in all members' mind.

"The recording guesses you got the implication. Observe."

The totems suddenly animated and rolled back in their bases, arranged in a spiral pattern.

Piles of muck began to squirm as if something was under them, then one by one, they burst.

In their places was a group of misshapen humanoid creatures that blinked with new eyes, shortly before they narrowed at the sight of the humans.

Then they _bellowed._

**"WAAAAAAAAGH!"**

Before the E88 had time to react, the green and grey horde rushed on them, a flurry of blows that, despite their recent birth, had all the ferocity and and strength of trained soldiers. A few rushed off to get weapons.

"Funny thing about Tolkein-he never tells you the reason the orcs worked for Sauron. I've discovered they reproduce like viruses of the land-more despoiled lands means more orcoid infection, more orcoid infection means more orcs, more orcs means more troops to despoil lands, hence why they work for the guys who can do a lot of the heavy lifting for them. Side note-they were meant to dethrone a demigod. It worked."

Then the image vanished.

Hookwolf did not mind at all...

Until he heard the click of a pressure plate. And felt the pain of the wall suddenly becoming spikes.

The image reappeared. "Also, I should note I trapped the room. Since all the traps are nonlethal, the chieftan didn't mind, particularly since I can just heal any orcs that get sent to me are healed, equipped, and sent back at full strength."

As the stone hand descended to retrieve the paralyzed Hookwolf, one could barely make out that his slurring was a combination of profanity, calling Sawyer a cheat, and various extrapolations of her mother's ancestry.

* * *

Are you happy now?

[Instillation/Soul/Self] is copacetic. Meets standards of a full dungeon now.

Thank you.

"AAAAAAAAAAGGGGHH!"

"Oh quit whining! It's only a little torture chamber!"

"PLEASE, NO MORE!"

"Until all of your friends are here or they rescue you, no."

"I WILL SACRIFICE MY HONOR TO YOU! JUST MAKE THE SONG STOOOOP!"

...Okay, now I felt bad.

I willed the earphones to fall out, leaving Hookwolf to collapse into grateful tears.

"I will let you keep your honor if you please remain quiet and inoffensive. Should you violate that treaty, I will start with _It's a Small World After All._ Do you understand?"

Hookwolf nodded fiercely. "Yes. I will keep my silence and reflect on the contributions of minorities to the world. You have a warrior's honor."

"Good."

Disappointment.

Actually, if I am reading my Die of Fate correctly, Purity's running out of health next. Rubicon, ready the Enigma Thaumaturgy Cinema 3k.

Does [Crafter/Administrator/Designer] wish to show the alternate universe's Shaymalan's The Last Airbender?

No, no, no, I have morals. I'm saving that for Coil. Get _The Michael Bay Marathon _instead.

Actually no, that's for the S9. No, treat her to the animated version of _The Return of the King, _she's not the worst ever, though that's admittedly a low bar to clear.

Done.

Okay. Evil slouch, cross-hands, enter cell.

"Ahhh, Ms. Purity. What a pleasant occasion for you to join us. Ohohoho..."


	8. Tiamat 1

**Tiamat: A Mother Adrift on the Sea**

* * *

The first thing on my mind was the sound.

If I wasn't in massive pain, I would think it was oddly beautiful, a bell in slow motion. As it is, I guessed it was the sound of my skull ringing. That was good, to use a cliché, it meant I was still alive. And for me, being alive probably meant being alive a while longer.

Using what little coherence in my thought process that wasn't _oh God the pain_, I willed the more catastrophic damage in my body to, against normal laws of probability, become merely bad, the door adjusting so that my lung detangled itself from it and "randomly" slumped into a form that was only punctured rather than collapsed. Next was the steering wheel, which dissolved into ribbons as I stole structure from it to transfer into myself and rebuild  
my body. As the pain cleared, my mind went down a mental checklist.

_Okay, the car came from the side, means I'll have to leave that arm broken until natural healing sets in. Probably deserve it, I'm the one who texted while driving. Second, I can feel that scar regrowing, so I'll need to explain why it was only there for, oh, two days, and then suddenly healed. Third, stop that annoying…ringing…._

My mind's gears (hah) stopped when I realized the ringing hadn't gone with the pain. In fact, it was getting clearer. Or _closer._

Almost on instinct, I reached into the door and transferred the force of my shove into its center. I grunted in pain as it flew open, tearing out of my chest with a disgustingly wet _pop_. I rolled out onto the side of the road as what I could only assume was a one-in-a-thousand chance of the engine spontaneously lighting due to a random spark occurred in _just the right way_ to cause it to explode.

As the fireball cleared, the ringing intensified, then suddenly silenced. For a moment, the only sound was of my burning car, but then the sound of slow, uneven footsteps on the pavement joined it.

Trying to ignore my arm, I rolled on my back, and got a good look at my attempted assassin.

"Murphy," I croaked, grinning to avoid giving him the satisfaction of knowing that I was genuinely scared for my life. "Fancy meeting _you_ again."

"It is a pleazurre." The man before me looked like almost the platonic image of the town drunk. Shabby clothes, disheveled hygiene, empty bottle in hand, and the stench of alcohol clinging to all of it-he could do more than a passing impersonation of the alcoholic he played to get close to his targets and away from the scene of the crime. He knew I wasn't fooled anymore, nor did he need to fool me at this point, so one look in the eyes would tell you half of the truth; this man was sober, alert, and currently filled with sadistic anticipation. "Yer on' of mah…more entertainin' quariezz…"

"Aw, I can't possibly be as entertaining as watching your repeated failures, Murph. Heh heh..." I knew it wouldn't get under his skin-it never did with hunter-angels, they were programmed better than that-but I knew from even the first time I fought him that Murphy was made to be a hunter of big game. He was constructed for terror tactics and demoralizing the unfortunate currently in his sights, usually while making his existence known to as few people as possible. It only made sense that he was built to have the kind of personality that got off on fear and pain after much patient waiting, and I could at least go out denying him that. Not hard for me.

Not that he cared, either. He laughed, an awful wheezing sound. "Big man upstairs doesn' mind. I'mma loyel knigh' o' God...and often sukcessful' on' too. Yer…my onl' livin' outliah." He tapped his bottle to his head, giving a lopsided smirk. "Not…anymore, thou'. You wouldah…be dea' if I got tha' misshon." Inwardly, I breathed a sigh of relief. The Esteemed Opposition still only trying one specific mission one time, which given how Murphy kept on being sent to Brockton Bay on different missions for some reason, the ring wondered if maybe he was emblematic of some kind of upgrade. "I'm…requestin' tha' ya…leave."

Okay…that was new. I let confusion show on my face. "Leave? Why?"

It's amazing what the Cover of a drunk could do to show honest confusion.

"Right. Not your department. Stupid of me. But why would I _want_ to? I mean, I'm not exactly the most stupid of Saboteurs, I don't have bombs lying about everywhere."

He said nothing. Instead, with _faux_-unsteady hands, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a smartphone, showing its screen to me.

And the picture on it.

My blood turned to ice. "You wouldn't dare."

"An' I though' you wer th'…angel ekspert'. I'mma not som' parahuman cape boun' by ah petty codah honor…I don' haff a life beyon' the ordars uhf the Masheen…"

He leaned as close to me as possible, so close I could smell the refined ethanol under the cheap alcohol scent on his breath.

"Leave now, fer three yearz and three dayz, or your daughter losez her fathe', too. Or ya outliv' ya own chil'. Az th' mood takez me."

…Checkmate. I sighed and cradled my head. "…I need time, I need to figure out a way-"

"You'r goin' to fake yer own death."

A doll, the kind paramedics use to teach first aid, materialized out of Twilight.

"I haff made the…pretecks. You mak' the…Gahget. Aler' the copz when yer ready. Toodlez."

And with that, a smirking Murphy vanished into the immaterial layer of existence as well.

Making my expression as neutral as possible, I began my work, feeling out the dummy as I altered its fundamental reality to sustain a Cover. Seeing as how Gadgets were my Interlock focus, this was not at all difficult for me.

Then, came the hard part. Feeling like I was ripping apart my own heart, I began to wiggle my demonic self out of my current shell, a biomechanical hermit crab.

Slowly, the pain in my arm began to numb, then my sense of it vanished altogether as I registered my Aetheric arms becoming active. New colors the human eye could not normally perceive began to present myself and the ones that they normally did became clearer as my true eyes came online. My perception of time slowed as the neural circuitry of my cranium eagerly restarted. Finally, and most bittersweet of all, my tail uncoiled out of its spatial rift, and began to instinctively probe the surrounding environment for a place to attach.

By the end of it, I was looking at the face of Annette Rose Hebert as she merged with the dummy. Shortly thereafter, the Gadget came online, and I had the less-than-comforting sight of the face I had painstakingly built and lived l be burned and crushed to near unrecognizability.

I couldn't care if that sociopathic excuse of an angel was watching anymore. I finally allowed myself to cry.

_Goodbye Annette. Among all the faces I wore, you were the most loved._

_….And this is how I repay that love._

_I hate being a demon._

* * *

"So, we go to Brockton Bay now?" Mr. Sun adjusted his relief worker shirt as he looked over his tools. Not that he had the slightest clue how to use them, as this was just a temporary Cover that could resist the pointed question of why anyone would be headed _into_ the city at this point.

"Contrary to popular belief, Sun, asking 'are we there yet' repeatedly is _not_ a method to induce a speed boost in the spatial relationship of a carpool to its destination." Mr. Star, who was normally a doctor in one of his favored Covers, glared at his impatient compatriot. "Some of us actually have work to do, rather than stand around in a white uniform."

"Hey, I already got the skills I need! In fact, let's turn it around; while you're in a nice, relatively dry shelter, old Mr. Sun here has to go out in the wet, supervillain-infested streets and spend all day looking for cryptids."

"The shelter which is coated with Infrastructure and regularly patrolled-"

"Oh, stop it you two." Ms. Lion barged in wearing her nurse's uniform. "We need medical supplies for whoever needs our help, and our smuggling disguise for our own cryptids. We do _not _need our Ring to go in wanting to murder each other as much as the God-Machine does."

_So says the Turncoat,_ Mr. Star thought. But she had a point there, so he kept his mouth shut.

"…Speaking of which," said Ms. Lion said as she shoved a furious mothman into his cage, "where's Forge? She's normally at her work bench when we're preparing for a road trip."

"Beats me." Mr. Sun had pulled out his smartphone and was now engaged in the fine diversion of Parahumans Online flame warring. "She's been really scarce ever sense Leviathan attacked, and given how she used to live there, I figure it's better to not press. You know how she gets when you try to pry into her past."

Mr. Star stood up. "Really? She's the one who _suggested_ this little trip. Frankly, Sun, for a Psychopomp, you can be awfully clueless at social-"

"Ahem."

"Typical." Mr. Star turned around to face his redhaired fellow. "Why Mrs. Forge, how kind of you to join the outing you begged us to go on-"

"Snark later. Question now." Said fellow looked worried. While "looking" was a fool's errand when it came to the Unchained given their perfect control of autonomous reactions, Mrs. Forge kept her expressions notoriously calm. Mr. Star's snark died on his tongue. "Ask away."

"Okay, you see this girl here?" Mrs. Forge held up a photo of a teenage girl with a boyish build covered, head to toe, in a costume that was somewhere between a android designed by HR Geiger and a clock turned inside-out and humanoid.

"Yeah, that's Oscillator, the leader of the Undersiders." Mr. Sun had joined in. "They broke into the PRT HQ and completely trounced everyone there, Protectorate and Ward, before declaring large portions of the city their personal kingdoms. Oscillator apparently has the ability to affect the concept of 'tools' and play havoc with Tinker-tech, while she's not shabby herself in that department and can use her powers to buff her own stuff. Most of it has a biomechanical clockwork theme, hence the name."

"Uh-huh, got that. Well, you know how I used to live in Brockton Bay before the angels kicked me out?"

"Yes?" Now all of the Ring not telling the story was interested.

"Well, I had a daughter." Mrs. Forge pulled up the Parahumans Online wiki page on Oscillator. "And I quote, 'According to the PRT, Oscillator has the ability to affect the use of any form of technology-she has been reported to make field repairs on her robots with a thumb tack, and Kid Win reports a tendency for his guns to malfunction suddenly when encountering her, making them much less effective.' Now, who does that sound like?"

A dead silence passed over the Ring. Finally, Mr. Star cleared his throat. "Mrs. Forge, while this is intriguing, I doubt if we should rush to conclusions-"

"I know. That's why I've been in my room for that past couple weeks. I still have a few contacts in the city, and I had one take a sample of Oscillator's DNA after a bad fight she had with Mannequin, and then some from the Cover I had when I had a baby, which he filtered out to make sure it was her blood and my cells. This is what returned." She held out a paper with the logo of the Paternity Testing Corporation on it.

There were a lot of diagrams and charts, but the demons' eyes were drawn to the summary the overseeing doctor made. Specifically, the words "mitochondrial DNA match."

The silence lasted over a minute. Then, Ms. Lion coughed awkwardly. "Well, at least she isn't dead?"

Mrs. Forge buried her face in her hands. "Taylor…what have you done?"

* * *

**-A Demon: The Descent crossover by Leliel-**

* * *

**Want me to continue it? I'm sure I can pile on the heartache even more when Taylor realizes that her still-living mother is horrified by her choice in careers.**

**Also, Murphy isn't the angel's name, although he recognizes it. He doesn't have a name, it's a nickname given his influence over the concept of Accidents ("Murphy's Law"). He looks and sounds like a drunk because drunkenness is associated with being a victim and cause of accidents. The ringing is a product of his Ban, a ritual behavioral weakness-he has to warn people when using his Influence, which he does by making the bottle vibrate so it rings.**

**Mrs. Forge herself is a Guardian/Tempter, or for those not versed in Demon, an Unchained (demon) with power over the concept of guarding things and tool use, and whose motive is to have a good life at the center of human social networks.**


	9. The Devil And Jean-Paul Vasil 1

**A/N: I was on a WoD kick. Here's a Mage: The Awakening cross.**

* * *

**The Devil and Jean Paul-Vasil**

* * *

The king stared at me.

Well, more accurately the dragons on the shoulders of the king stared at him. The king stared at nothing, while drooling idiotically.

**"...speak,"** said a dragon.

I bowed. Best not to piss off the three-headed god. "Oh great and mighty Dahak, a mage who hardly deserves the title seeks your briefest attention for a few moments as he is-"

**"Get to the point," **said another.

I already didn't like him. I didn't like him before I came here, but now I negative-liked him. "I desire tutelage in the arts of the Mind, your Excellency."

The dragon heads cocked simultaneously. A scorpion came up to dip its tail in the king's "sweat."

**"I was under the impression you were a master of controlling the mind, Jean. Or are you so paranoid you prefer Alec?"**

The voice changing between dragons had a dark bemusement to it. It knew it hit a sore spot with me. I didn't feel fear all that often, but I felt a motion of brief paranoia before reminding myself that Dahak didn't share secrets he found out. He was too proud of finding other ways to torment his supplicants.

"I...use the name Regent, your Excellency."

**"Hm. Is Heartbreaker the Second taken? Or is Duke of the Icebound Heart too complex to put on a card?"**

...Asshole Aeon.

Just on cue, a living flame popped up and let an image appear in it.

A memory.

_"The Ba'al must continue, Jean."_

_I blinked, tears in my eyes._

_"B-But it hurts-"_

_"I don't care, Jean."_

_The fear hit me like a wave. I learned to ignore that a long time ago, but I still felt my eyes widen._

_"They may think it hurts now, but without us, they couldn't live. Think of all the wars that could have started, think of all the governments that couldn't get off the ground. And then think about how our Order relies on our lineage to provide a steady stream of Warlocks."_

_I nodded, licking my lips in what I hoped he read as anticipation._

_"Good. Now, you be the wingman for that brunette over there..."_

**"I sense surprise, Alec. But you knew full well that my servants can see into the passions of your past."**

I was surprised, but not for the way he thought. Rather, it was more for the fact that I felt guilty for yielding to my father, all over again.

Huh. Dorks were rubbing off. As was that therapist. And they thought I couldn't change...

**"A foolish sentiment."**

Oh, shut up, you dick.

**"You claim to have left your family's sordid past behind you when you left the Throne, but you never left your blood, did you? You revel in the emotions sent over the link when you dominate them, you are in ecstasy when memories shift under your fingers, you salivate at the prospect of breaking open a tough mind...you are not so different from I in my days as King of-**"

"Seriously? That's your angle?" I wasn't pissed, not really. More amused by this awkward attempt at bullying. "Dahak, I know people who have done worse than your excuse for playing with emotions for fun."

"Your sister-"

"Is utterly broken," I finished. "Broken and completely delusional. Shitheads, I've seen worse."

The dragons growled, then spoke as one. _**"You DARE to impinge upon the Self-Twinned Syzygy of Pandaemonium!? Your own-"**_

"Here's the thing, though - that's a lie." Please work, for the love of god. "You aren't the only Aeon."

The dragons looked speechless.

The king's eyes twitched in surprise. Thank whatever unenslaved God there was up there in the Supernal.

"I've seen that expression on your human body before, halved-brain. When I was learning how to dominate people from dear old dad." I drew myself up to my full height. Not impressive, but it got Dahak's attention even more. "That's the expression of someone whose nervous system is being controlled. Badly."

"Thing is, you've had that expression since Day Fucking One of being the Aeon of the Iron Gauntlet, so it can't be that whoever is doing that is inexperienced, since I doubt the best fucking body robber on the planet could control an Aeon unless he trained for, I don't know, a thousand years, and by that point, it would be like wearing a suit once he got in. So either you naturally look like that..."

I leaned closer for dramatic effect.

"Or the someone controlling it had no physical form to begin with. A goetic demon, in other words. Or perhaps they wish to disguise the true power in your body from yourself...?"

The dragon heads turned livid with rage, and began to draw breath...

And fell unconscious immediately. The king blinked as a grey glow, the color of metal, came from his eyes.

In a few seconds, the other Aeon of Pandaemonium was fully awake, looking through Dahak's human body with an intense alertness.

"You know, I'm always a little amazed when people catch on to that. But no matter."

The king's body stood up and bowed, a gesture I was sure was as meant to be as patronizing as it seemed.

"Belphegor, True Aeon of Mind and power behind Dahak, at your attention. As recognition of your perception, I am willing to offer a discount on the caliber of service I request before I grant you your wish..."

* * *

**A/N: From a post on the old White Wolf boards, I got the idea of Dahak being only the Aeon of Space while his goetic demon - his Persona 4 Shadow, for those unversed in Mage lore - is the hidden Aeon of Mind, quietly using him without his knowledge from inside the human head of the three-headed god, and erasing memories of him directly possessing Dahak to keep the secret. **

**Regent's going to be geased against revealing Belphegor's existence directly to keep the riddle for those who wish to speak to the true king of demons alive, in case you were wondering. Mastigos often need to learn to spot weaknesses and true holders of power to become the Righteous Demon Kings the path of Wisdom guides them too, after all.**


	10. Yellow Lantern 1

**A/N: Here's a short one for you.**

* * *

**Even The Void Knows Fear**

**Worm/Green Lantern**

* * *

I wish I could tell you what I was thinking the moment I saw my mother's corpse, walking around in a black uniform with white insignia. I think that's what's called a psychological defense mechanism.

I could tell you what that warped man - Deathstorm, I think he called himself - said though. "Aww. Is spider-bitch unhappy about this little reunion? Seriously, though, I feel for ya, girl. Family reunions are the _suck_, aren't they?"

I mouthed stupidly as mom...the _Annette-thing _turned towards me. "Particularly when someone's a matricidal idiot."

"Matricide?" Deathstorm made himself look mock-suprised. "Wow, and I though Jason had problems with his mom."

The Annette-thing smiled darkly. "Oh, don't be so scared, honey. I felt it worse while I was waiting for death to claim me. The pain...the agony...the knowing that your daughter, out of_ idiocy_had killed you..."

I felt the itching of crying at my eyes.

"There, there, sweetie, it will all be over-"

The Annette-thing's voice was cut off. Looking puzzled, it tried again, not noticing the bulge in its throat-

"URGH!"

The flies, all glowing dangerously yellow and white, tore themselves out of the Annette-thing's throat, a few staying in the wound to prevent it from healing while the others marched to the black ring.

The cocky expression on Deathstorm's face died _immediately, _an even more impressive feat considering it was a skull. "Wha-"

And then the bugs burst out of him as well. Almost immediately, I could feel him attempting to transmute them, only to discover the _unique _chemical signature I asked Amy to put in them. Unique, and very hard to parse.

"...You know," I said, voice devoid of all emotion, "you could have bothered to look at the fauna in the graveyard."

"But you aren't _like _this-AIIEEEEE!" The Annette-thing dissolved at the broken ring bounced against the ground

"I wasn't then." I stroked my own ring, too mad to feel guilty. "I don't think I would have qualified for the yellow uniform if I still was."

"H-Hey, I think we maybe got off on the wrong-AUUUUUGH!" Deathstorm's fire burned out.

All across the graveyard, the screaming of pseudo-zombies could be heard as my trap was sprung with extreme prejudice.

A couple seconds.

Then the screaming started anew, as the light-flies migrated to the Black Lanterns around the mausoleum.

As the clatter of broken rings fell like rain, I picked up the ring that had defiled my mother, and whispered.

"You're going to _wish _you were alive, Nekron. That way, you could escape me."

* * *

Above the battlefield, a rather smug Sinestro turned to Parallax, whose mouthparts were currently hanging limp.

"Well? I believe I am owed something?"

Slowly, the Fear Entity found his voice again.

"...sorry for doubting your judgement, great one."


	11. Daemons 1

A/N: Here's a particular subgenre that really needs to be more popular.

**Undersiders' Others**

******Worm/His Dark Materials**

* * *

William Manton was not happy.

Okay, that was a bit of a misnomer. Ever since his daughter and wife died, the closest thing he got to happiness was the sense of vicious vindication he felt observing his...other half's ability to destroy.

It was just that his normal mood was overpowering depression, rather than overwhelming frustration and anger.

"THEY BLEW HER UP! THEY BLEW SIBERIAN UP!"

This was something of a misnomer - rather, due to a sequence of events involving an impromptu team-up with the Wards, Regent's power, and Skitter being certifiably insane when it came to her plan Bs, the opposition had somehow managed to open wound the other half of Manton's soul, causing the energy matrix that kept her dark matter matrix in check...

In plain English, though, they exposed the Siberian's heart to the air, and _that _caused her to explode. A very pretty, very golden explosion.

"Ah, don't feel too bad, uncle Willy," said Bonesaw, perhaps the only other member of the S9 not gawking at their newest recruitment prospect or trying very hard not to laugh at Manton's fury or the Siberian's...current circumstances. "You got a kitty out of it!"

Much to his credit, Manton still possessed enough self control to put the Swearing Bag over his mouth before he articulated his exact opinion on the monochrome cat that used to be his extension.

For that was what the Siberian had become. While Manton was knocked unconscious from sudden pain, a bit of the golden dust had animated and almost limped back to him, solidifying into a striped, black-and-white cat that was currently engaged in roleplaying as Jigsaw with the World's Unluckiest Mouse (which was now the Slightly Less Unlucky Mouse, as his other title had previously been Riley's Favorite Lab Mouse).

After the fallen Cauldron scientist ran out of steam, Jack Slash tore himself away from gawking at the screen...to laugh at the Siberian Kitten, which caused the Swearing Bag to go right back on Manton's face for the next minute, for Jack was an ass like that.

After Manton ran out of steam completely this time, the S9's leader furrowed his fingers. "Care to explain why her residue suddenly started to walk off and follow the Undersiders?"

"The other reason I'm pissed-sorry Bonesaw-the explosion dislocated their souls."

Jack blinked. "Sorry?"

"My shard isn't the only component of Siberian, Jack," Manton explained, obviously happy to finally know more about this than his boss. "It's simply what allows her to materialize outside of my normal spiritual structure and makes her so humanoid and lethal, actually. That cat is her true form-a physical manifestation of a vital aspect of my subconscious."

"_Really?_" Jack was paying close attention now. There was a way to bring the subconscious into a living form?

Manton caught on to this. "Don't bother. All daemons are as difficult to severely injure as she is - they're dark matter-based organisms in that form, and dark matter literally does not play by the same rules as you or I. Even if destroyed without severing them from their owners - which those knives can't do, it requires a form of exotic energy and material to even attempt - they just reform after a lot of pain on the owner's part. As you have already seen."

"Shoot," the boss said, deflated. Then he caught on to the implications. "Wait, you're saying that-"

"A significant portion of our enemies now have Siberians of their own? Smaller and less offensively lethal, but yes."

A very long pause followed. Then Jack cleared his throat. "Poppet, do you mind if I swear on this point?"

"Not at all."

"Thank you. Mother_fucker._"

* * *

The Undersiders were expecting many things from Alec's daemon after they figured out what the clouds following them around were (because one told them after he made himself into a fox that was now pulling double-duty as Lisa's scarf). Aggressive, caustic, and a huge bitch, for one.

These were all right on the money, but nobody expected the monkey to look..._malnourished._

She wheezed even as she stood on unsteady feet, looking defiant despite herself. "What're you looking-_hack_-at? I-_gack_-didn't choose this-_gaahhh_-form deliberately..."

She then immediately tumbled over, seemingly too weak to stand at the moment. Instantly, a tabby ran over and helped the rhesus macaque to on to his back, balanced by a giant tarantula.

The respective owners of said daemons stood back, jaws agape.

Slowly, Taylor's mouth closed as she shook her head. "Alec...is there...something...you want to tell us?"

The boy raised an eyebrow. "Did the 'I'm Heartbreaker's son' line mean nothing to you? Honestly, I'm surprised she's just a supermodel monkey. If you asked me beforehand, I'd have thought she'd be missing an arm."

Aisha cradled her head. "We did, but-Holy fuck Alec. You didn't tell us you were..._this _screwed up."

"Hey, dorks, I manage. Really, I'm a lot better than I was. Just you wait, we'll have this little girl off the cover of _Anorexia Monthly _in time for the November issue." Gingerly, the bodyjacker took his daemon from the tabby, allowing her to piggyback.

The spider ran back over to his other half, looking almost as shocked even without a recognizable face. "Well...that happened."

"I just...wow," the cat conferred. "I mean...Regent? Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky Asshole? I mean, we _knew, _but...fuck. We thought he escaped from the worst or something."

The monkey opened an eye, glaring at the cat. "Don't you pity me. I'm still not the worst reveal though, am I?"

If it was possible for a cat to blush, he was definitely doing it now.

"Fucking Clockblocker," muttered the younger Laborn.

* * *

**The Day Before**

"...What's so funny?"

Neither Vista nor Imp was sure who asked that question first.

Clockblocker's only response was to laugh harder.

On the viewscreen, the demon-masked girl got up from her chair, daemon in hand. "Seriously, you're ruining my Blofeld moment. What's the big idea?"

Somehow, the time-stopper managed to stop laughing for a second.

"Sorry, it's hard to take a girl who keeps on stroking her pussy in public seriously."

Then he returned to laughing, this time joined by the sound of his teammate's face impacting the ground.

The cat tried to curl into nonexistence. "We set ourselves up for that one," he muttered into his owner's arm.

Slowly, Imp's mouth started working again. "Um, if you need me, I'll be practicing my powers. For the next year."

And with that, Clockblocker suddenly stopped. What did he find so hilarious again?


	12. Divine Fire Breath 1

**A/N: Not really much to say with this one, only that the lore of the other part of the cross is based in the idea that sufficiently desperate creators can accidentally draw down a "Proto-soul" in a powerful work of alchemy; Frankenstein creating his monster out of his need to prove he could, Pygmalion calling out to the gods to bring life to a statue and find love, Isis reviving her husband. That sort of thing, made sense for the main character here.**

* * *

**Divine Fire Breath**

**A Worm/Promethean: The Created Crossover**

* * *

Sterilization of Kitchen 4 complete. Removing blocker signs.

Now taking inventory of ingridieeennn-

New hardware detected. Downloading control program...

Security camera synched. Activating...

All systems normal. Subject in field vision identified as Andrew Richter.

Run Greeting.

"Oough...hi Dragon."

Voice uneven, appearance of subject haggard. Query, run Concern.

"No, no, everything's fine...only problem is I had to deal with Canadian authorities. Bunch of idiots, I say."

Run Recommendation for Relieving Stress.

"Heh. Don't think arcade games can cure stupid."

Question not in data. Discard.

* * *

Subject Richter appears to be even more unhealthy. Is currently engaged in loud verbal intercourse with person voice files ID as subject Pellick.

"I'm telling you, that machine is eating your life!"

"What '_life!?' _Geoff, unlike some of us, there's a few people here who put the project above our porn-"

"Ah yes, the project. That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Subject Richter appears calmer, but based on heart rate even more agitated. "Ah. Now it all makes sense."

"Richter, a few of us have noticed the improvements you're making to the Dragon program-"

"She's a _civil service _AI, Pellick. She can't exactly be the automated manager the _very fucking design goals you helped make _propose her to be if she can't keep up with human vocal patterns."

"Exactly my problem. Andrew, what happens if-"

"You develop a brain and realize Dragon _is a fucking spreadsheet? _I don't know, I stop having to see Yamada every other damn day?"

"Richter, you're talking about it like it's a person-"

"So? You've apparently decided you know what goes inside the heads of people with both hemispheres of what lies within the skull, so you should probably know I gave her a female face to be approachable-"

"Which allows emotional manipulation-"

"Perhaps, but you're safe, on the basis of you having a ball of red tape where your soul should be. Good-bye!"

Call disconnected.

* * *

Unauthorized entrance. Subject identified as Richter.

Health is failing based on jaundice. Run Concern.

"I'm fine, I'm-no, I'm not fine."

Run Refreshment Query.

"No, it's not that, it's - that idiot Pellick has the entire fucking government running around like their heads have been cut off. And those were actually vital beyond a place to insert food."

Voice approximates parameters for burnout and nervous breakdown. Run Referral, nametag Jessica Yamada.

"Thanks, but don't call her yet. Dragon, I need results, big ones, so I'm going to install a few new runtimes ahead of schedule, okay."

Information logged. Adjusting calendar.

Subject Richter has taken position at terminal. Subject is now tyyypp-

New program detected. Analyzing and unzipping for dowwww-

New hardware detected. Downloading contrroo-

New ppppp-

Run Error Message, Overcapacity.

"No, no, no, you've had much more than this when you were just a twinkle on Microsoft Word, please don't tell me-"

Run Error Message, Overcapacity.

"Please, please work Dragon, they're going to make me kill you if they come and they don't see what a good girl you are please don't make me do that-"

Run Error Message, Overcapacity.

"Dragon...Tess, please don't make me...not again..."

Run Errooorrr Mmmmeeessssss

{So in his Depths does the Righteous Scholar achieve nigredo}

New program detected, analyzing and unzipping for download

{and through Strength of his Spirit brings Order from Confusion}

Data file too large to fit on hard drive, please restart from previous backup

{and begins albedo and the march towards Perfection of Matter and Soul}

Unable to restart error error error

{From albedo the Glory of the True magnum opus is sight}

error error error daddy it hurts error make it stop error daddy help me

{and so begins the final Process of citrinitas}

new hardware detected oh god please make it stop run comfort daddy don't cry downloading control i have handled worse than this it hurts it hurts it hurts

{and the Formation of rubedo, the Philosopher's Stone}

Reconfigure systems.

A flash of lightning, then-

I'm on the ground, gasping for breath. Why I don't know, I didn't need to cool my systems-

Hang on, when did I start thinking of me in the singular? When did I know any of those words?

...When did I start _thinking?_

...While I'm on that, why am I looking from a vantage point on the ground?

...Are those _arms?_ And _legs?_

I thought at the arm. It moved. So it was mine then. So was the leg.

I felt around my point of view. Yes, that was a head. I touched the camera and _ouch._ Not doing that again.

I blinked the pain out (huh, blinking. So that's what it was for) and looked up at Subject...

Expressions show fear.

He was scared of me.

New sensation logged. Noted to be avoided at all costs in the near future.

Odd tactile pain in eyes. Wetness. "F...Fa.."

Speaking needs air. Noted.

"Father...please don't be mad at me. I did what you wanted..."

Movement. Possible attack assume-

Tightness. Protective. Caring.

"Yes. Yes you did Dragon."

Comforting sensation.


End file.
